Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Arun posted an excellent commentary by another Buddhist writer, Dolma, on his blog recently. It takes up the sticky issue of anger, in particular the ways in which Buddhists are stereotyped. Let's consider the following selection:

many individuals, whether they have any knowledge of Buddhism or not, seem to be comfortable with hushing a Buddhist critique. A patronising “calm down,” some poorly recited Sutras, and a “Well, I’ve read Siddhartha.” That’s what we get. Fantastic.

These dismissals truly stem from Orientalist ideologies. Asians are perceived as submissive and obedient, and therefore, adherents to an Asian religion must contain themselves in a similar manner. This is where my anger truly stems from, which is why I feel disheartened when my fellow Buddhists suggest that I’m overreacting. I always welcome discussion on religion, theology and spirituality. However these situations are not respectful engagements, they’re the layering of weary prejudices that are inherently violent. They’re disrespectful to my religion, ethnic community, and to my identity as a whole. In his teachings on anger, the Buddha encouraged us to avoid harmful speech, and to apply lovingkindness where there is anger.

It's important to note that the "positive" stereotyping of Buddhists as "always calm and peaceful" is probably as harmful as the "negative" stereotyping of Buddhists (especially Asian and Asian-American Buddhists) as passive and submissive. I can't tell you how many times I have been praised for my relative calm and ability to act in non-violent manners, and then have that linked to the idea that Buddhists never get angry anyway. It's sometimes subtle. Beginning with sincere respect and appreciation, but then swerving, for example, into muddled thoughts about what "Zen" is. Sometimes, though, it's absolutely not subtle. I get upset. Or speak in a somewhat raised voice about some issue I'm passionate about, and there's shock and confusion.

What's interesting is that over the years, I have ingested just enough of the stereotyping and pressures to conform that I probably don't express anger enough. Although actually, when I think about it, for me it's less about "anger" and more about variations on the theme that get suppressed. I don't consider myself someone who is filled with repressed anger. However, I am a man who is quite passionate about numerous issues, and who feels - sometimes intensely - the suffering of the world. The various oppressions. The injustices. And all of it pisses me off sometimes, and frankly, I think that's a good thing.

Beyond all of that, though, there's the issue of conflict. Because honestly, what people label as anger or angry is often really about the way they experience conflict with others. Something said feels fierce. Or stirs up some old wound or grief. And suddenly the label "anger" comes forth to the rescue. that's it. It's anger. The problem is that sometimes, it's not anger. And even if it is, so what? It's another human expression, one that need not control us or destroy is - and yet, so often ends up doing just that.

Going back to Dolma's post, I recall a conversation over the summer with a Christian guy who was certain Buddhists couldn't do the "hard work" of social activism. That Buddhists "are too passive and individualistically focused" to ever help bring about any significant social change. The levels of obnoxiousness in that conversation went through the roof at times. I spoke about my own experiences and involvements over the years, and the ways in which Buddhist teachings deeply informed that work. I spoke about social movements around the world designed by, and led by, Buddhists of all different backgrounds. None of it seemed to break through. At the end of the conversation, he stuck by his initial assertion that Buddhism is mostly about "individual peace," something he had a vague respect for, but which really didn't register as that valuable in terms of dealing with the big social issues of the day.

Ironically, the similar kinds of commentaries have come from folks within our sanghas as well. And from members of the worldwide online sangha as well.

And yet, the issues with anger and Buddhists are much larger than that which stems from social issues. I have witnessed interpersonal conflicts in my own Zen community that lingered on for weeks, months, perhaps years in some cases, in part - in my opinion - due to the ways in which the stereotypes around what a "good Zen student" is and isn't have saturated our community culture. As one of the sangha's leaders, I have often struggled with how strong and fiercely to present certain ideas I have out of a knowing that we sometimes collectively collapse around conflict.

One of the mistakes that gets made in my opinion is that strong, fierce, and even passionate presentations of views and ideas gets immediately linked to a deep, problematic attachment. Over the weekend, we had a board retreat during which I spoke quite candidly about wanting to keep our sangha in an "urban" environment. Desiring diversity and community engagement, as well as seeing ways in which "deep practice" can be done regardless of "where" one is located, I felt compelled to advocate for staying in the city. At points during that discussion, I kind of wondered if some might have mistook my passion for problematic attachment. Maybe not. I honestly don't know. Part of the reason I kept pushing in the first place was to help unearth what I believe are some unspoken differences about sangha lying beneath the general sense of agreement and consensus we tend to have as a board. And yet, this kind of purposeful, deliberate moving towards conflict could have been felt threatening or troubling because of how intimate conflict seems to be linked with "bad" or "not Zen-like."

Dolma sites the application of lovingkindness when anger arises. Yet, if we are constantly striving to be "perfect little serene Buddhas" within our Buddhist sanghas, how will we learn how to apply that lovingkindness? In all honesty, I have learned more about applying lovingkindness outside of Zen center in the face of anger - others and my own - than within. And sometimes, it's been quite a rough ride exploring different ways to be with and express anger with the teachings in mind. Lay Buddhist communities might need to consider ways they can set up deliberate "laboratories of anger" to help students practice dealing with anger in a safer, more contained setting.

Overall, the way many Westerners view Zen - insiders and outsiders - is broken down into a limited binary. On the one hand, you have the calm, serene monk meditating, studying texts, and perhaps washing some dishes and chopping wood. On the other hand, you have the koan caricatures of Zen teachers making dramatic, sometimes physically violent movements or short bursts of "enlightened" speech. What about all the territory in between? Stories about the abuses under samurai culture, for example, sometimes get referenced and offered as warnings by people who have studied a bit more about Zen. However, there's so much unexplored territory around how conflict and anger has actually been handled by Zen teachers and students throughout the centuries. And obviously Zen is only one of the myriad of branches of Buddhism out there, each of which has their own particular flavor of dealing with anger and conflict.

Whenever I or others online have written about power and sex scandals in Buddhist communities, the gawkers come out in full force. Many of them fellow Buddhists. Which gives me pause. Is part of the collective obsession with these scandals coming from an unspoken desire to somehow come to "understand" conflict through these situations, and then be able to construct "defenses against it" so that we can somehow move on?

Because I don't think there is a moving on really. More and more, I'm seeing conflict as an opportunity to grow and evolve. To awaken even. And sometimes that requires holding on to your views a little longer. Pushing a little harder. Being a bit more "difficult." Being fully human, including at times, angry and even outraged.

I personally feel the world is at a major crossroads. And how we approach anger and conflict will probably make a major difference in terms of what the world is like for our future descendents.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Two of my favorite Buddhist bloggers, Maia and Katie, are present in this interview of Katie done on the blog Jizo Chronicles. I want to reflect briefly on the following section of Katie's comments:

On a larger scale, exploring interdependence has really shaped the way I understand solidarity. I don’t have to “know” someone in order to comprehend that we are connected — spiritually, and through local and global systems. The workers at the Foxconn factories in China, who face penalties of twelve years in prison for attempting to unionize, probably helped produce this laptop I’m typing on. And they must continue to work under unbearable conditions; otherwise, they and their families won’t eat. But their situation won’t improve, necessarily, if I give up my laptop, or stop buying Apple products. Instead (in my opinion) I am called to practice compassion and solidarity by supporting the actual struggles of the workers, and similar struggles of workers and peasants not only abroad but in the U.S. as well.

With the markedly increased speed and potential impact of communications these days, we actually have a greater chance of making a difference in the lives of people living half way across the globe. The digital support through blog posts, tweets, articles, petitions, etc. that people around the globe sent to folks protesting in Arab countries over the past year has been heard and deeply felt. The reciprocal standing in solidarity from those same protestors was felt by yours truly and many of his fellow Occupiers during the past several months as well. It may seem like a tiny thing - a blog post, a sharing on Facebook or Twitter - but it all adds up. And these days, often quickly.

There was a photo a few months back of an Egyptian protestor in Tahir Square holding up a sign supporting those who had been beaten in Katie's current hometown of Oakland during the occupy protests. It brought me to tears.

We aren't alone. No one is alone. And there are more and more creative ways people are finding to stand in solidarity with people around the world. From expanding the messaging being used against destructive legislation at home to include it's global impact, to strategically spreading ideas for social change, we are moving beyond simply clicking on a petition and forgetting about it.

Furthermore, the best elements of the nearly worldwide now protest movements are starting to combine activism with a deep commitment to personal relationships. Recognizing that how we are with each other, how we care for each other, is probably just as important, if not more so, than any political "victory."

I hope to write more about this, and similar topics, in the coming months. In the meantime, feel free to share your thoughts.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

For various reasons, my life has been filled with joy lately. It's pretty wonderful, given how challenging the past few years have been. I wanted to share with you this post from the blog bodhi tree swaying, which offers 5 ways to increase joy in your life. With all the suffering around us, it's easy to dismiss joy as something fluffy, something that is, like chocolate, merely a treat to have once in a while. However, there is nothing in the Buddhist path, or any healthy spiritual path really, that precludes joy. Joy is our birthright. And anyone can experience it, regardless of current "outward" conditions.

One thing that appears to be missing in the post above has to do with handling difficulties or "negative" situations. It probably seems like an oxymoron to suggest that one can be joyful in the middle of conflicts or difficulties, but I have experienced just that. Just yesterday, I walked into a prep meeting for an Occupy project I'm involved in, and recognized immediately that folks were struggling. Events of the day had led to needing to make changes, and let go of some of the hoped for outcomes. And everyone in the room was handling it differently. As I sat at vthe table and breathed in each person's energy in the room, I felt a well of gratitude rise up within in. The agitation a few were expressing was ok. The worry another person expressed was ok. The confusion another expressed was just ok. It was all ok.

In fact, somehow it was more than ok to me. Beneath what was being said, the heart and passion of each person in the room was palpable. Beyond that, though, the simple act of being alive together where we were at that moment felt kind of amazing. How did we all arrive at this time and place together? What wild web of causes and conditions led us to share a piece of our lives, however fleeting it might be?

Even the difficulties have a certain beauty, and remembering that see that, it's possible for joy to arise. A joy that might tip the scales towards joy for others. Suffering need not be always matched with seriousness and solemness. Where you place your attention often makes all the difference.

*Photo is from a jam session held last night at the opening ceremony for the Whealthy Human Village project, which envisions a more earth-based, community driven world and is dedicated to setting up spaces to help bring that vision alive.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Actually, that isn't true. The New York Times is a corporation, not a person. So how could it hate anything really.

Anyway, the North American yoga world has been a buzz over a recent New York Times article that isn't terribly flattering to yogaland. It's one of those pieces where intelligent points are swimming in a sea of muckraking and designed drama production. It's true that asana practice can lead to injuries if done without attention and care. Furthermore, it's also true that there are too many poorly trained teachers out there who are treating yoga like the perfect power fitness routine, one that couldn't possibly, in their minds, have any precautions.

However, to move from there to suggesting that "many people" are basically risking potentially life-changing injuries every time they practice is ridiculous. The article cites an increased number of yoga-related injuries appearing in emergency rooms, and all I can think of is how yoga's popularity has exploded over the last decade. In other words, it's no surprise at all that there are more injuries. Frankly, moving your body in everyday activities is risky. Picking up a heavy box without considering the alignment of your body is risky. Swinging a tennis racket hard for the first time after a long layoff is risky. To often, this article read like the mind of a person who believes airplane travel is more dangerous than driving, never mind that far, far more people are injured or killed in car accidents annually.

Let's face it, though. A more accurate, balanced article about yoga injuries just wouldn't have been that hot and controversial. That's what makes the big bucks most of the time. At the same time, there has been some good discussion stirred up around the issues in the article. Here's a taste of the online discussions.

Monday, January 9, 2012

If the dharma has not yet fully come into one's body and mind, one thinks it is already sufficient. On the other hand, if the dharma fills one's body and mind, there is a sense of insufficiency. Dogen, Genjokoan

Feeling insufficient, or having a strong sense of lack, is pretty common here in the U.S. anyway. Pretty ironic, given how much "material abundance" we have, even those of us who are fairly poor, at least in comparison to much of the rest of the world. But it's also beyond this.

I remember hearing about how the Dalai Lama was shocked that some people in "western" countries were plagued by self hatred, or at least battered "self-esteem." The strong influence of the doctrine of original sin, as well as capitalism's endless creation of "needs," certainly play a role in all of this.

So, there's that, but then we have the "sufficiency" Dogen speaks about above, which is an arrogance, a belief in a total understanding that isn't present.

These two things go together. The feelings of lack coupled with a belief that you have all the answers, are already fully awakened.

There's nothing really special, though, about the "lack" those of us living in materially rich countries experience. Maybe it just displays itself at such extremes that it's an easy example to uphold and examine.

In any case, humans tend to have it all flipped around, these experiences of insufficiency and sufficiency.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Humans like comfort. And that impulse has been strongly exploited here in the U.S., to the point where it's considered normal to place comfort over most everything else. The economy is bad. The political leaders don't listen to the 99%. Well, hey, at least I have my sports team to watch. Or my ipod. Or my small group of friends I can bitch about life with. Or even my own political action group to fall back on and disappear into.

So many of us, myself included, get hooked on the idea that the best life is one free of discomfort and dis-ease. We are so conditioned in this way that our minds often leap straight from where we are to the narratives of liberation from discomfort and dis-ease, without considering what might lie in the space between.

In other words, whenever things get a little bit rough and unpleasant, the dominant storyline has been to go find whatever it is that makes us feel better in the short term.

The eighth precept speaks about not being stingy with anything, but how many of us practitioners actually share freely our experiences of discomfort and disease? And even more importantly, do so in a way that isn't imposing or dumping upon others?

When I look at all of this through the eighth Buddhist precept, it's pretty clear to me that I'm often possessive, often stingy when it comes to discomforts and disease. Sharing these experiences, especially when they are full blown in the moment often scares the crap out of me. I don't want to appear to be a mess. Sometimes, I fear rejection. Other times, I'm worried about having to fend off unwanted offers of "help." Mostly though, when I think about it, I'm stingy because I don't expect anyone to truly listen to whatever is occurring for me - and unfortunately, this is often the case in life.

The reality is that every moment of sharing is a moment of risk taking. There's no way to know how anything you say or do will be taken, even by your mother, lifelong partner, or best friend. So, all you can really do is assess the situation, feel out if the timing might be right, and then decide whether to share or not.

I think a large part of the reason why the big social issues go round and round with variations on the same old story is that each of is doing much the same in our own lives. Leaping on fear and hate bandwagons is so much easier than sitting with a sense of being exiled from one's self, our discomfort - not separate from anything else.

About Me

is a writer interested in both the big questions of life and the everyday details. I am also a Zen meditation and yoga practitioner, herbalist, and teacher.
If you'd like to contact me, my e-mail address is ngthompson04 at yahoo.com